Life Tierd

Summary: A man sits alone and summarize his life, what he has done and how things turned out. His conclusion might be familiar to every man questioning his time.

Chapter 1

Life Tierd

In the kitchen with its yellow walls
and the constant smell of burned food, he sat and looked out of the small
window with its staled window-frame on the people out in the street. They all seem
to be in such a hurry; that old man with the long coat and the white beard had
his eyes focused on nothing while he did everything he could to get there. The
two young girls in their colorful clothes with their eyes and senses deeply
buried in their phones, while they were walking fast into the cyberspace where
all social media cooperate in an eternal carousel of fast comments.

He saw them and wondered if any of
them where alive?

He thought about how he never had
any goals with his life; expect being a good father and a loyal and faithful
husband. He had never set any priority in a career or any ego-trips. The love
ones had always been number one.

His youngest child was only 10-years
old when he disappeared. Probably she never understood why he left them. He
decided to let it be. He would never been able to explain his actions to her,
not yet. Perhaps another day. If he still be around then.

One of his other child’s was a
teenager when he left. The daughter had become a problem and he could not
understand why. He suspected drugs, nothing else could motivate the negligence
and total lack of interest in the own individual person. She disappeared beyond
contact. He could not reach her anymore. To just stand there and watch your
children ruin their life with the knowledge that time never takes a break, gave
him wound in the soul that would never heal.

It wasn’t the first, but perhaps it
should be the last.

He thought about all those times she
has told him that she does not care what he says and that she does as she
please. He thought about all those times he been worried about her and not
being able to get in contact with her; when she had shot of the phone or just
ignored his calls. He thought about all his wonders about where she was, with
whom and what she was doing.

He thought about how it made him
more and more tired each time it happened.

His son didn’t want to go to school.
He didn’t keep himself unavailable, but he did not want to go to school. His
older kids didn’t need him anymore. He knew it’s all natural but that fact did
not make him any happier. He was unable to give anything to anyone anymore. And
that knowledge hurts the most.

He thought about the young ones
today and tried to compare with his own time at that age. The Punk age, the
revolution era that once existed. What happened to those ideals? Why did not
the youngsters today revolt? Are they so satisfied with everything? Isn’t
revolution part of growing up? The disapproval against society, where was it?
Isn’t it healthy to questioning and revolt? Or maybe it was so serious
today that they did not manage to question the society? Or perhaps there was
nothing to revolt against at all? Perhaps they did what they want and have
always done without any disapproval at all. What is it to revolt against if you
already are the leader?

He and his wife lived in some kind
of vacuum where respect and trust no longer existed. Long time ago they had
given up all communication to the advantage of war. It’s always easier to recourse
to force of arms instead of being diplomatic and balanced. It’s
always easier to get involved in the fight than it is to break it and lay down
the weapons. Only the strong ones can do that. And they are few.

He
thought about how it made him more and more tired each time it happened.

Sometimes he thought that maybe life
didn’t have any more to give. Perhaps he was done. It would not became more
than this. Well, it could be Okay, he was quite disgruntled with everything and
nothing would change that now. Time had also created a misanthrope in him.
Faith in humanity had died long time ago; how we treat our own, our world and
how we shape our society. He had been around long enough to see that it does not
work, it’s not lasting. It’s much easier to stop caring about the world outside
and what’s happening out there than your own family. To give up on your love
ones is the end.

Sometimes he thought about what
could bring any joy? Did anything exists that could be fruitful in any way?
Probably not, nothing he could think of anyway, and nothing he could remember. It
was not much that could make him feel better.

A depression had caught him and he
eats the tablets the doctor ordered him. They did not helped in any way, but he
was afraid to stop taken them. Perhaps everything should be even worse then. But
he only pushed it in front of him, the unavoidable end. There must be a moment
when someone understands that the last life minute is reached.

Why should anyone want to live
forever? Is there anyone that happy that they want to live forever? Or is it
just the fear for the unknown?

He had made up his mind to leave
everything behind. Now he just sat there and waited for the last leave. On the
worn oak table in front of him shone the black oxidized metal in the bleak
reflection of the sun that found its way through the window. The loaded Glock
was the door between all or nothing. When he took it in his hand it was the
start of the end. At some point it would be an irrevocable decision.

Some 40 years ago there was no grim
as guest in his mind, like now. He only had weak memories from that time, but
they were seldom dark and onerous.

30 years ago are the big joy of discover
there which includes the experiments with all senses. It’s a balance so one
don’t get caught in something improperly and destructive.

20 years ago family life started. As
time went by it should change shape several times. Just like one could expect
from a worried soul. That concern, the consequent attention-thirsty anguish,
would never leave him alone longer moments.

It made him more and more tired each
time it appeared.

Outside the little kitchen window
the number of stressed souls has been reduced. What’s left is only those that
are not in a hurry, those who don’t stare in front of them with empty eyes. What’s
left are those who stopped to rush long ago; those who knows it won’t lead to anything,
those who know there is nothing left to rush to. Those who know that there won’t
be anything exclusive served on the plate of life. And it has never been.

The sun reflection on the Glock is
gone. He laid his hand on it. The black metal had absorbed the heat from the
sun and the pistol was warm. It felt nice. Not at all as a life extinguisher. It
felt like a friend.

He looked at the yellow walls and
the grey concrete ceiling and wondered how it would look with all the red on it.

He placed the muzzle against his
forehead.

He knew it was an irrevocable
decision if he let the firing pin hit the bullet.

He felt how it made him more and
more tired each time this appeared, this feeling, the end.

Write a Review
Did you enjoy my story? Please let me know what you think by leaving a review! Thanks,
Johntaw

Felisa Yoder Osburn:
I really enjoyed the story. Civil War stories are some of my favorites and the intertwining of the past with current times was wonderful. I look forward to reading the next stories.

pikagirl311:
Katie Masters has definite skill when it comes to plot work and characters. The story is well-paced and pulls you along with the tide, keeping you hooked until the very end. The only reason I did not give it five stars across the board is due to a few minor quibbles with misspellings and such lik...

europeanlove:
I gotta hand it to you. I love reading. I read books everyday. When the book is good I can read it in probably 13 hours. Your story was amazing. Great prose, very imaginative. Incredible dialogue. I am deeply impressed. Keep it up.

M.L. Bull:
Hello, Aalia!Your story compelled the emotional pain and struggle of a teenage girl very well.. The imagery was also convincing and well-written, showing the different personalities of your characters and their actions. However, I do think that many of your sentences are too lengthy and could use...

JanThompson:
This book gives a beautiful description of a country which one rarely gets to see. The contrast between rich and poor is very evident too.The storyline actually sheds a compelling light on why women in certain countries sell themselves just to help their families or even to survive themselves. I ...

Sara Joy Bailey:
The characters are well written, full of depth and life. The plot was thrilling. The author's style flows naturally and the reader can easily slip into the pages of the story. Very well done.

missmary:
This story sucked me in from the start and kept me reading when I should have been in bed. My only disappointment is how it ended. While I have nothing against Sherlock/John pairings- and this was well done- I kind've hoped it would come out a little different just for a change. Still, this was w...

Deleted User:
(A review in progress). I like this. It's sparse, gritty and atmospheric - reminiscent of the classic Golden Age of American detective fiction of the Thirties. I've only read the beginning, but I'll definitely be back. This writer knows their stuff and has done their homework on detective work. T...

Darren Powell:
Very nice read. Lots of surprising treats from: Schrodinger’s cat and dervish dance forms; to sensei masters and brownian motion. I wasn't expecting this, so it was a pleasant discovery.Also liked the 'cross-over' events connecting one character's/or group's journey to another. I like how that wa...